


All this time

by capeofstorm



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 11:05:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capeofstorm/pseuds/capeofstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the first Christmas after the war and Harry needs to move on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All this time

Winter had taken hold of Scotland’s highlands. Harry was quite happy with the knee deep snow that had fallen on the Hogwarts’ grounds overnight.

After all, snow meant that fall was over. The rain and violent winds were gone, as was the coldness which clung to your bones and made you think you’d never be warm again.

Harry bundled his outer cloak around him as he walked back to the castle from the lake. It was his daily ritual, visiting all the spots where his friends had died fighting for Hogwarts and freedom. Fighting for him.

It had been just a few months since the Battle and it this was the first Christmas after it . Harry’s mood took a deep plunge. He had been pretty down ever since the funerals started. The initial rush of happiness and gratitude for being alive, for understanding just how precious life was to him had been drowned out by the guilt and regret he felt over losing so many brave people. He barely made it through Tonks’ and Remus’ funeral, tears streaming down his face as he said goodbye to the last link he had to his parents. Ron and Hermione had stood beside him, Hermione’s hand around his own, warming it up even though it was May, Ron’s arm securely around his shoulders to hold him up. It had been, by far, the hardest funeral he had attended. Even Fred’s funeral wasn’t as bad. He held Ron’s and Ginny’s hands as they stood in front of the grave of the person they never thought they would lose so quickly. Fred was too full of life to be gone and it hit them hard to realise they would never hear his laughter again.

Thankfully he was spared having to attend Professor Snape’s funeral. After getting Snape’s memories, Harry was sure the man had died, his body limp, his eyes unseeing. He felt guilty for leaving Snape’s body in the Shack but he promised himself he’d go and retrieve it as soon as the battle was over. He remembered about Snape the day after the battle and with a sinking feeling in his gut he made his way to the Shack, only to discover his Potion professor’s body was missing. As it turned out, Pansy Parkinson found Snape when she tried to get away from the battle. She discovered that Snape was still alive, barely, and Portkeyed both him and herself out of the Shack and into one of Parkinson properties, where she nursed him back to health.  
Harry was startled out of his reminiscence by Hedwig landing on his shoulder, her sharp claws digging into his thick robe. He smiled at her and scratched her head.

“Hello, beautiful. How are you today?”

She hooted at him and nipped at his ear gently in reply.

“It’s pretty cold here. Want to head back to the quarters?”

Hedwig bobbed her head in agreement, her body moving up and down, coaxing a quiet laugh out of Harry.

“Your wish is my command.”

Harry made his way to his quarters briskly. He couldn’t wait to sit down in front of the fire with a cup of hot tea with a splash of whiskey. It was Friday evening and there was only a week left until Christmas holidays. Harry would be staying at Hogwarts this year. He preferred to steer clear of the Weasley family, even though they invited him more than once. His break up with Ginny still made him feel uncomfortable around the Weasley family, especially now that he was Ginny’s DADA teacher. Needless to say, his seventh year Gryffindor-Slytherin DADA class was an awkward affair to put it lightly.

When Minerva offered him the position he wasn’t sure he should accept it. He knew he no longer wanted to be an Auror, having had his share of fighting during the war. But he wasn’t sure he could teach right away, with most of the students being his ex-classmates. For Merlin’s sake, he was Hermione’s professor now! She was the one who urged him to complete his education and take this job. So amidst rebuilding of Hogwarts and attending funerals Harry sat his DADA NEWT and aced it, of course. He sat the rest of his NEWTs by the end of August and passed them, though not with as high a score as his DADA score. On the 31st of August he was officially accepted as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

He was still surprised as to how his life panned out so far. He was so sure he’d be at the Auror academy and engaged to Ginny by now. However, his trip to the afterlife and his time with Dumbledore made him rethink his life and choices. He didn’t pretend he didn’t love Ginny– he did, deeply so – but he realised that sometimes love wasn’t enough. He realised he hadn’t had a chance to experience life and he didn’t think it fair on Ginny if he stayed with her because she was his only choice. Their break up was friendly enough, both of them hoping they would find their way to one another soon enough. However, recent months had shown Harry that it wouldn’t be so. He found himself withdrawing from everyone, throwing himself into his work. Hermione nearly staged an intervention for him around Halloween and it was only thanks to Snape’s timely presence that it didn’t work. Harry still had to thank Snape for that. He really didn’t want to talk over his feelings with Hermione. He knew she’d understand, or at least try to, but he felt she wasn’t the person to talk to. She had enough on her plate with her studies and relationship with Ron.

Harry finally arrived in front of his quarters. He took out his wand to disarm the wards and nodded to Elspeth, his portrait. She curtsied at him and let him in.

Hedwig flew to her perch as soon as Harry stepped into his quarters. She hooted at him and hid her head in under her wing, falling asleep. Harry took off his outer robes and hung them by the door. He flicked his wand at the fireplace, lighting the fire and instantly brightening the living room. He took off his shoes and socks and sunk his bare feet into the thick carpet of his living room. He sighed quietly with pleasure and made his way to his armchair.

“Kreacher!”

Kreacher popped in front of Harry, bowing deeply.

“Yes, Master Harry?”

“Could you bring me some tea with whiskey, please? And some sandwiches.”

“Right away, Master.”

Kreacher winked out and back in, in a matter of seconds. He handed Harry a steaming cup of tea and put a plate of turkey sandwiches on the table before bowing and winking out again. Hermione nearly had his head over Kreacher’s behaviour. It wasn’t until Kreacher himself told Hermione that it was the elvish tradition to bow to their master every time that Hermione let it go. She couldn’t argue with culture. At least not this time.

Harry took a sip of his tea and relaxed slowly. He had some markings to do still, and he needed to check how many students were staying over the holidays. He was planning on sending little gifts to the orphaned kids at school, knowing many of them would spend their first Christmas without a family. He wanted to do something to make the feel better over Christmas and thought hard about what would have made him happy at that age. His first answer was family but since he couldn’t really provide that for each and every orphan out there, he instead decided on small gifts of sweets and Quidditch supplies or books. You couldn’t go wrong with that, at least according to Hermione.

He ate his sandwiches slowly, looking at the fire. The dinner would be served soon and Minerva made it clear that he better show up this time, as he had missed enough meals already. Apparently, it wasn’t very professional of him to skip meals. He gave the students a bad example, according to the Headmistress. How his eating habits made him a bad role model Harry didn’t know until Snape had pointed out how younger students seemed to emulate Harry’s behaviour whenever possible. He couldn’t argue with that, as he had noticed it more than once. It made him rather uncomfortable but he wasn’t sure how to address that problem.

His wand vibrated softly against his thigh, signalling it was time to attend the dinner. Harry sighed slowly, realising he must have spaced out yet again. It happened to him a lot since the war, since the funerals. He got up from his comfortable armchair and looked himself over. His robes weren’t too wrinkled so he didn’t have to change. He walked over to Hedwig’s perch and stroked her soft feathers.

“I’m going to dinner, girl, I will be back soon.”

Hedwig opened her eye groggily and hooted at him softly.

Harry opened the door to exit his chambers only to see Hermione, her hand raised and ready to knock at his portrait. He smiled at her and closed the portrait behind him.

“Hi, ‘Mione.”

“Hello, Harry. How are you?”

“As well as I can be after a long week of fifth year DADA classes... Were we really that bratty and overconfident when we were fifteen?”

Hermione laughed at that, her shoulder bumping into his as they walked to the Great Hall.

“We were worse. We ran an illegal defense club.”

“True, how could I forget that?”

They chatted about Hermione’s classes and his teaching duties as they walked towards the Great Hall. Saturday was a Hogsmeade day and Hermione and Harry would be meeting Ron in the Three Broomsticks.

“What time are we meeting Ron at?”

“Eleven. I can come by to collect you around ten?”

Harry shook his head.

“No, there’s no need. I have to meet with Minerva tomorrow morning anyway, so you go ahead and I will join you two in the pub.”

“Are you sure?”

Harry looked at Hermione and noticed the worried look she gave him. He shuddered at the thought that she and Ron might try to get him to open up tomorrow during their catch up.

“Positive. Don’t wait on me, I know you can’t wait to see Ron,” he winked at her, making her blush and punch his arm.

They entered the Great Hall and Hermione waved him goodbye as he made his way to the staff table. He nodded at Minerva who was chatting with Flitwick on her left. Snape sat on her right, as dark and foreboding as ever. Harry nodded at him curtly as he took his seat beside the surly Potion master.

“Potter.”

“Professor Snape.”

He saw Snape shoot him a dirty glance. Ever since Harry saw Snape’s memories and learned that the man was still alive and coming back to teach at Hogwarts there was tension between them. A different kind of tension, he amended. For all it was, Harry now knew Snape’s most treasured memories of his mother. He knew Snape didn’t have to give them to him that night in the Shack; his memories of his discussions with Dumbledore would have sufficed. Harry saw the memories of his mother as Snape’s first and last gift to him – knowledge about his mother. So many people told him stories about his father, but no-one really told him about Lily Evans. No-one, apart from Severus Snape, that is.

They haven’t spoken about what Harry saw in those memories. He didn’t know how to approach Snape about this; he wasn’t sure Snape wanted to be approached at all. He did seem more relaxed these days, and wasn’t as brutally sarcastic as before but he wasn’t exactly welcoming either.

Snape himself, it seemed, didn’t exactly know how to deal with Harry either. He no longer seemed to derive pleasure from verbally tearing Harry up. If they had to interact, Snape kept it short, to the point and as emotionally distant as possible. Which seemed easy enough since most of their topics had oscillated around their students and the curriculum. Some days Harry found himself realising just how bizarre the situation was. A little over a year ago he himself was Snape’s student. Now, he was Snape’s colleague, someone who had seen his most treasured memories. He tried to imagine what Snape thought of this situation and promptly gave up.

Harry played with his green peas absently, spearing them on his fork in stacks. He wasn’t really that hungry after his sandwiches. He really shouldn’t have eaten them.

“Eat, Potter. We wouldn’t want our newest DADA professor to perish from malnutrition.”

Harry startled at Snape’s voice, his fork tumbling down on his plate with a loud clank. He picked it up, feeling his cheeks warm up.

“Yes, well, too late for that.”

“Indeed. Stop by my lab later to pick up the nutrient potion,” Snape ordered as he got up.

Harry stared at him, his eyes wide, his mouth open and ready to form questions. A glare from Snape made him rethink his question and nod instead. That was unexpected.

Harry caught McGonagall’s eye and smiled at her weakly. She looked between him and Snape’s retreating back with a raised eyebrow and went back to her chat with Flitwick. Harry took a few bites of his dinner and pushed the plate away. If the kids in school would be stupid enough to copy his eating practices then surely they are deserving of the hunger that came to them, Harry thought pettily. He had enough of being a role model. He got up and made his way through the Great Hall, waving at Luna in passing, and decided to stop by Snape’s for the potion. After all, the man had offered. Or rather, ordered.

Harry walked the corridors of Hogwarts with nostalgia. He walked past the Potions classroom and felt the usual dread take its place in his stomach. So some things never changed. Somehow it cheered him up that he could still relate to his fear and dislike of Potions class; it made him feel younger. But then again, he never really felt young and childish.

He rapped at the door and waited for Snape to call for him to come in. He felt like he was there for a dentention and it made him smile. No more detentions for him, thank goodness.

“Enter.”

He entered the classroom, closing the door behind him. Snape looked up from his desk, where he was grading the papers. He raised an eyebrow at Harry.

“When I said later I meant after you ate your meal, Potter. You didn’t have to follow me.”

Harry felt his cheeks colour for the second time in half an hour. Damn Snape. Ever since he saw Snape’s memories Harry had the tendency to blush around the man. It was infuriating and annoying.

“Yes, well, if the students are stupid enough to copy my eating practices then they deserve what’s coming to them.”

“Indeed.”

Snape got up from his desk and motioned Harry to follow him. They entered Snape’s private lab and Harry stared around the impressive room. Snape really did take his Potions seriously.

Snape walked up to a wall full of shelves filled with vials and bottles. He picked one bottle and moved to the table, grabbing a few vials along the way. Harry watched as Snape poured the nutrition potion into separate vials with care, never spilling a drop. His hands were steady and graceful, keeping a sure grip on the bottle. He corked each vial after he finished pouring the potion, placing them softly on the table, making sure they didn’t roll over and fall to the floor. He put the bottle on the table and closed it. He looked at Harry as he handed him his vials.

“Take one every morning with meal. Come back next week for a fresh dose, I should have a new batch finished by then.”

“Why are you doing this?”

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could think them through. His fingers closed around the vials as he took the from Snape’s outstretched hand. For a cold man like Snape, his skin was very warm.

“You could just say thank you.”

“Thank you.”

Snape nodded and went to put the bottle back in its place. Harry, however, wouldn’t budge.

“I mean it, why are you doing this?”

Snape turned around and crossed his arms in front of him, looking at Harry down his nose.

“Doing what?”

Harry had to roll his eyes at that.

“Helping me. Again.”

“Perhaps I am used to looking after you since you do such a miserable job out of it yourself.”

“It’s not like you have to do it anymore. The war is over.”

Snape looked as if Harry had hit him. He straightened and tensed his shoulders, drawing himself away.

“Thank you for pointing that out, Mister Potter. I am sure you can find your way to your chambers, I have some papers to grade,” he said as he made his way back to his classroom.

Harry stood there, dumbfounded. What was it with Snape? What did he say? He sighed, tightening his fingers around the vials and left the lab. He looked over at Snape who was sitting in his chair, bent over the table, his hair hanging over his face and his quill moving quickly across the page. Harry opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it. He left the classroom and went back to his chambers.

*

His meeting with McGonagall was productive. He finally received the list of students who would be staying in Hogwarts for Christmas. Most of them were orphans who didn’t have anywhere else to go; the Ministry was trying to find suitable accommodation for them over the summer and Harry had a feeling that it might be a project Hermione would be interested in. He would have to mention it to her, he thought as he entered the Three Broomsticks.

He spotted Ron and Hermione sitting in the corner booth. They sat together side by side and looked so very in love. Harry felt a pang at the sight; as much as he loved Ginny, they never looked at each other the way Ron and Hermione did.

“Hey guys.”

They looked up at him and smiled. Ron got up and hugged Harry, his hand giving him a healthy slap on the back as they parted.

“It’s good to see you, mate. How’s the teacher life treating you?”

Harry smiled at that and sat down opposite of them. He took off his robe and scarf and put them beside him.

“As well as expected. The first years are doing my head in, though. You’d never believe the things they come up with. Timothy Jackman actually wrote that silver is good for werewolves in his end of term essay. I swear, they don’t listen to a word I say.”

Ron laughed at that heartily while Hermione frowned. Harry could see the cogs turn in her head and stopped her before she could say anything, his hand up in front of him in a defensive manner.

“Yes, Hermione, I know. I have spoken with him and it turned out it was a prank. He wanted to talk to me one on one but never had the courage to come to my office.”

“Why did he want to talk to you?”

Harry sighed.

“Hero-worship, as Minerva put it. I really should have thought about it before I took this position.”

Ron looked smug at that and Harry laughed.

“Don’t even think about it!”

Ron shrugged and got up.

“I’m going to grab another butterbeer, you want one, mate?”

“Actually, can you get me some mulled wine?”

“Well, look at you, being all fancy pants. Sure thing.”

Harry rolled his eyes and smiled at Hermione. She looked pensive. She bit her bottom lip and reached for Harry’s hand. He moved his hand to cover hers and squeezed lightly.

“What’s up?”

“I’m worried about you. You didn’t eat much at dinner last night and you missed breakfast this morning.”

“I ate in my rooms, had to look over the list McGonagall gave me. Which reminds me, the Ministry is trying to come up with some sort of accommodation for the war orphans for the summer and I thought you might be interested in helping with that.”

“I am interested, but don’t you change the topic, Harry.”

Ron came back at that moment, two butterbeers and a glass of mulled wine in his hands. He handed the glass to Harry and gave one of the butterbeers to Hermione.

“What topic is he changing?”

Hermione nodded in thanks, squeezed Harrys hand tightly and let go of it.

“He hasn’t been taking care of himself.”

Harry groaned and took a sip of his wine. He knew this would come and it seemed like it was time to talk it through.

“I’m fine, guys. Really, between you and Snape I will eat like a pig soon enough.”

Ron looked confused.

“What does Snape have to do with this?”

“He, uh, gave me nutrient potion when he saw I wasn’t eating much.”

Hermione looked like he just proved her point. Which he did, now that he thought of it. He took another sip of his wine to bide more time.

“Well, Snape was always observant,” Ron said with a shrug.

“Since when do you like Snape?”

“Since the Shrieking Shack. I mean, we were there for his last moments, Harry. It took away all the hatred I might have felt for him. In the end, we all die, you know? He’s not that different from us.”

Harry was surprised, and so was Hermione, it looked like. She put her butterbeer down, took Ron’s face in her hands and gave him a hearty, long kiss. Harry averted his eyes and sipped his wine.

Hermione blushed when she and Ron came up for air.

“Bloody hell, I need to have mature moments more often,” Ron said dazedly.

Harry chuckled and Hermione swatted Ron’s arm, but she was smiling.

“Anyway,” Hermione cleared her throat. “What’s going on, Harry?”

He put his glass on the table and sighed.

“Nothing’s going on, Hermione. Literally nothing. And I think that might be the problem.”

Hermione looked at him with understanding.

“What do you mean, mate?”

“I mean I don’t, well, I don’t really feel, I don’t know, I don’t feel like I’m a part of anything, you know?”

Silence greeted his statement. He looked around the pub, not knowing what to say or how to react now that he told them what was bothering him the most.

“Harry, have you thought of dating?”

Harry looked at Hermione as if she announced she was related to Fluffy.

“Really, ‘Mione?”

Ron seemed to have the same reaction as him as he whined the last question out.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders and took on her bossy tone.

“Well, you are hardly moving on with your life, Harry. Sure, you have a job and are out of school but otherwise you don’t do anything. You walk around the grounds and reminiscence about the dead. And I understand it, Harry. I understand your need to think about them, to acknowledge them. But you have to move on. We have to move on. Life is short, you of all people know that very well.”

Harry opened his mouth to interrupt him but it was her turn to raise her hand to stop him.

“No, hear me out. As much as I’d love for you and Ginny to get together, I know it won’t happen. You were happy together but she has moved on. She’s happy now, Harry, she’s happy with Seamus. But you, you just... you seem to be fine with just staying in limbo.”

“Ginny’s dating Seamus?”

Hermione gave him an annoyed look.

“Is this the only thing that interests you from what I’ve said?”

Harry shook his head.

“Well, no. I mean, a part of me is angry she has moved on but... A part of me is happy for her. She and Seamus, they make sense, as much as I’d like to deny that.”

“Good. Because I haven’t seen her this happy in ages, mate,” Ron cut in. “I mean, she loved you, it was obvious you two were in love but it seems like now it’s time to move on, you know?”

“It just feels like I’m not respectful if I move on. Like it meant nothing if I suddenly start thinking about other things.”

“Oh Harry,” Hermione sighed. “It’d be insulting to them if you didn’t. All those people fought for our freedom and the right to move on and do the usual, mundane things. That’s what we fought for. Freedom and life. You have freedom but it looks like you don’t have any life left in you.”

Harry leaned back against the booth and chuckled sadly.

“I think you just hit the nail on the head, ‘Mione.”

They sat in silence for a while, sipping their drinks.

“Are the potions Snape gave you helping any, mate?”

Harry looked up at Ron.

“Yeah, I feel hungry, actually.”

“Why don’t I go order us some food?” Hermione offered.

Ron got up and let Hermione pass him, his hand brushing against hers, making the both of them smile and look at each other with understanding. Harry felt jealous. Not of Ron or Hermione – they were perfect together – he felt jealous that they had someone to share that intimate, understanding look with. He wished there was someone like that for him, now that Ginny supposedly moved on. To be honest, it made him feel like a lot of weight was taken off his shoulders, knowing that Ginny no longer waited for him.

“What are you thinking?”

“That ‘Mione might be right.”

Ron smirked.

“Isn’t she always?”

Harry laughed at that.

“That she is, that she is.”

*

They ate their brunch and decided to take a walk around the village. It soon became apparent that it was a bad idea, once people started pointing at them and following them excitedly. The trio looked at each other in understanding and Disapparated away.

They Apparated by the Shrieking Shack and Ron laughed. Harry looked at him quizzically.

“Well imagine them trying to follow us!”

Hermione smiled indulgently as she walked to the door of the Shack.

“Let’s go inside?”

Harry felt apprehensive.

“’Mione, I’m not sure...”

“I wasn’t asking, Harry,” she called in a sing-song voice as she already entered the building.

Ron shrugged with a grin and moved to follow her. Harry looked at the building and thought back to the last time he visited it, when he thought he was going to collect Snape’s body. With dread, he walked in and closed the door behind him.

He entered the room which held so many memories. The confrontation between Sirius, Snape, Remus and Peter, Snape giving him the memories and dying... Now that Harry though about it, it seemed like all of his memories of the Shack were tied to Snape in one way or another.

Hermione was busy cleaning up the place. She swished her wand around, getting rid of all the dust. Ron conjured three armchairs and plopped down on one of them.

“Finally some peace.”

Harry rolled his eyes and moved to sit down.

“So... Snape noticed you don’t eat much?”

“Uh, yeah. When I ask him why he gave me the potion and y’know, saved me again he got all huffy and told me to leave.”

Hermione looked at him as if he was an idiot. Harry felt unsettled, she normally only looked at him like that when he told her he didn’t understand their Transfiguration assignments.

“What?”

“Tell me everything.”

Harry knew not to argue with that tone of voice.

“I went to his lab, he gave me the potion. I asked him why he did it, he asked what. So I asked him why he was still saving me. I mean, the war is over, there’s no need for him to do it – “

“You are an idiot.”

Harry blinked.

“Pardon?”

“You are an idiot,” Hermione pronounced each word carefully.

“What the hell are you on about?”

Hermione looked at Ron in understanding.

“You basically implied he didn’t have a reason to care for you apart from the war.”

“Well, it’s true, he doesn’t!”

“He gave you memories of your mother, right?”

“Yeah – “

“He didn’t have to do that.”

“I know that,” Harry snapped, annoyed.

“Harry. Snape gave you something precious. Doesn’t that tell you he might actually care for you because you’re you? Not a weapon in the war, just you.”

“You might be going out on a limb here, ‘Mione.”

Hermione shook her head and leaned forward to address Harry.

“Harry, I... I think there might be more to Snape than you think. I think there might be more to what Snape feels for you than you think.”

“What Snape feels for me? Are you insane?”

“No, mate. I wasn’t too thrilled with it but I saw it as well.”

Harry threw his hands in the air.

“Saw what?!”

“The way he looks at you.”

That wasn’t what Harry expected.

“The way he looks at me? What do you mean?”

Hermione shrugged her shoulders.

“You might laugh at me all you want but I worry about you, Harry. I watch you up there at the Top Table and I wasn’t the only one who was worried. Snape, the way he looked at you, Harry... It’s the way Ron looks at me.”

“You’re batty.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are! Ron, tell her!”

Ron raised his arms in surrender.

“I saw it, too, Harry.”

“You are both insane. Insane, I say!”

He got up for the armchair and started pacing the floor. They were ridiculous. As if Snape would ever think of him like that. Of course they thought it was like that, he never told them what was in the memories. They didn’t know that Snape was in love with his mother. But somehow Harry couldn’t bring himself to tell them. It felt like he’d be breaking Snape’s confidence and that thought disturbed him.

He was startled out of his thought by Hermione giggling. Hermione _didn’t_ giggle. He looked at her and apparently that was all she needed to burst out laughing.

“I haven’t seen you so agitated and alive since the Battle, mate,” Ron chipped in.

Harry threw them a dirty glare.

“Go to hell.”

Ron grinned.

“Been there, done that.”

The corners of Harry’s lips turned upwards. He looked at Hermione, who was still laughing, and started to laugh himself. It was insane, really. The idea that there might be a possibility of him and Snape – because, he admitted to himself, he was interested, definitely. It was insane that the world moved on, that they could talk about things like crushes and dating and the improbability of Snape feeling something but hatred for Harry, when they had fought in a war over six months ago. It was insane that they would be able to move on from the horror and dread that has taken over their lives for so long. They were finally free to live, Harry realised as he clutched at his stomach.

Ron looked at him and Hermione with fondness. He got up and reached for each of them, bringing them together in a hug. They rested their heads together, their arms snug around one another. Harry’s and Hermione’s laughter subsided to chuckles. They stayed like that for a while, before pulling away and smiling at each other.

“I guess I should go and apologise.”

Hermione combed his hair off his forehead.

“Yes, you should.”

*

Harry looked at the snake painting guarding Snape’s door.

 _“Hello,_ ” he hissed at it.

_“Hello, speaker.”_

_“Is he in?”_

_“Yesss.”_

_“Could you let him know I’d like to talk to him?”_

The snake bobbed its head and disappeared. Harry stood in front of Snape’s door, a mix of emotions swirling inside of him. He couldn’t believe how alive he felt, how... not numb. His thoughts were interrupted as the door opened.

“Parkinson?”

Pansy Parkinson was standing in the door, obviously on her way out. Snape stood behind her, his posture tensing once he saw Harry.

“Potter,” she nodded at him.

Turning to Snape, Pansy smiled.

“Take care, Severus. I will see you on Christmas.”

Snape nodded at her, and to Harry’s surprise, reached to hug her briefly.

“You as well. My regards to Hannah.”

With that, Parkinson was gone.

“Is there something you needed, Potter?”

Harry took in a deep breath.

“Actually, I wanted to apologise. And talk. Can I come in?”

Snape regarded him steadily for a few moments.

“Apologise for?”

“For my question at the lab. I didn’t mean to imply that you couldn’t care about me for other reasons than the war.”

That seemed to startle Snape as he gestured for Harry to come in. He closed the door behind him and followed Snape to the armchairs in front of the fireplace.

“Apology accepted. Although you didn’t have to apologise.”

Harry pretended to look at the fire and regarded Snape from the corner of the eye. Were Ron and Hermione right?

“No, I did. I have the tendency to revert back to my bratty teenage self around you and for that, I apologise. I didn’t think before I spoke.”

Snape smirked at that and caused Harry to roll his eyes.

“Truth is, ever since you gave me your memories I don’t know where we stand.”

Snape sighed at that.

“I hoped you wouldn’t mention that.”

Harry decided it was time to try his Gryffindor courage.

“Were you in love with my mother?”

Snape stared at him blankly. The silence started to grow awkward and Harry shifted in his seat.

“Dear Merlin, you have to have a really naive view of love if you couldn’t see my love for your mother for what it was – a love for a friend. Or a sister, if anything.”

Harry cleared his throat.

“What was I supposed to think? You were protecting me for her. She’s your patronus form...”

“Given, at the beginning protecting you had a lot to do with Lily. But over the years it changed.”

“Changed how?”

“That is none of your business.”

“You can’t say it changed and not tell me how!”

“And why, precisely, is this of interest to you, Potter?”

“Because I’m attracted to you, you git!”

Harry realised his mouth ran ahead of his brain yet again. He sank in the armchair and closed his eyes. If Ron and Hermione were wrong, this would turn to be really awkward.

“Are you, now?”

Harry opened his eyes to see the older man look at him. He caught his breath. The way Severus looked at him...

“Yes.”

“Took you long enough, brat.”


End file.
